


Blood Bath

by Em_Jacques



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood Kink to The MAX, Blood and Gore, Explicit Sexual Content, Frolicking in the Carnage, Hux Likes to Play in his Victims, Like CARNAGE BLOODPLAY, M/M, Mitaka Coming into His Own, Murderer Hux, No Killing or Alive Person Gore, Psychopaths Committing Sins, Seriously this is HELLA BLOODPLAY, Severe Bloodplay, not necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6724960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jacques/pseuds/Em_Jacques
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka has the unpleasant duty of 'taking out Hux's trash,' but much to his self-loathing, he finds it less unpleasant and more...arousing.  Hux of course has known of the similar psychopathic desires the young man harbors and decides to open up some doors for him.  Once he coaxes the unsuspecting Mitaka into the bathroom, it's an easy game to get him on his knees and bent over a slurry of past sins for a brand new game.<br/>No tagging as violence because there isn't any violence to living people...all the gore comes from nameless, faceless victims already dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Bath

**Author's Note:**

> So this elaborates on my past train of thought; what if Hux is a raging psychopath with a bad bad blood kink? What if our favorite twinky Lieutenant is also, but in turmoil with these feelings? What if Hux fucked him over a tub of gore and Mitaka fucking loved it? This is gross, guys, there's no sweet-and-loving-in-the-middle here like there is with our precious angsty Force-wielding dom. Hux is a monster. I grossed myself out (and...maybe turned myself on a teeeeeny bit at times) writing this.  
> Again, sorry for the posting delay. I left my computer at my parents' house on my last visit and had to purchase an emergecy tablet, then create some new shit from scratch with no notes. Pity meeeeee!!! And enjoy the carnage-riddled smut ;)

Lieutenant Mitaka took pause outside of the General’s quarters, crouched with his back planted against the wall and head resting in his hands. Those who passed by gave him little judgement based on his actions unfitting of an officer. Their faces instead showed pity for the young Lieutenant tasked with the most undesirable job on the Finalizer; taking out Hux’s trash, the Troopers called it.

Mitaka could smell the rotting stench already as the horror of it trickled in to hijack his mind. That man was a monster. Not a wild and untamed animal like Kylo Ren, but an icy, calculating, merciless child of slaughter. He paled, imagining the carnage surely lying in wait for him behind the door but he was anxious with anticipation for what new tortures he might bear witness to once he entered. Taking a deep breath, he stood straight and adjusted his cap. He had tucked himself up under the waistband of his uniform trousers before heading here and was glad of it, as a slight swelling had already begun beneath them. The reaction was not unfamiliar to him in this circumstance.  
He hated this part of himself, and he hated the man with whom he had begun to realize he shared so many similarities.

No time like the present. 

“General Hux?” he rapped on the steel door, squaring his shoulders and huffing sharply. “Lieutenant Mitaka, I’m here for maintenance.”

A few seconds passed, and Mitaka couldn’t fight the sink of disappointment upon thinking the General might not answer. But the door opened, sliding into its recess within the wall, and he squinted against the harshly clinical light that spilled out.

“Excellent timing, Lieutenant,” Hux greeted him as he strode into the main room. The door hissed closed but he had cultivated more self-control than to jump at the sound regardless of how on edge he might be. The room’s current state did nothing to quell his unease, rather, it deepened as he quickly took stock. 

The General’s rooms were stark and humorless, just like the man. Bare walls save for First Order banners; low, simple tables and white sofas scattered about between minimalist bookshelves. Lights ran along the junction of high ceiling and wall, unobscured by fixture coverings and leaving no detail unexposed. Concrete floors were not burdened with carpets, glowing dull and soft under the lights. It would have been almost relaxing in its emptiness were it not for the evidence of Hux’s personal activities tainting every surface.  
The red and black cloth of the banners hid countless unidentifiable stains, apparent only if one drew close enough to smell them or touch the fabric crusted stiff with dried fluid. Low tables meant a person could be bent over the surface while bound on their knees, sturdy so a stray blow wouldn’t send the body crashing through them. White sofas were to more easily reflect on enjoyments long passed with the tender stroking outline along each vibrant stain. The Lieutenant tore his eyes away, unable; indeed, fearful, to continue looking. He breathed heavily through his nose, desperately trying to acclimate himself to the sickly cloy of death that permeated the air and beaded sweat under his collar. He would be here for a while.

Hux rolled up the sleeves of his crisp buttoned shirt, the contrast of black fabric on pale skin fitting so well in his setting. He squat down alongside a table near the center of the room and beckoned to his silent guest.

“Help me take this one off, Lieutenant, it’s done.” 

Mitaka walked around the table to kneel down with Hux, blanching as he did so. The woman was very obviously dead. Naked, once on hands and knees but now twisted grossly at her joints from having fallen over, unable to break free from the long screws through her hands and calves that bolted her body to the floor. He stared aghast at the battered form, unsure of what to do.

“General, I…” he stammered in hesitation. They were always waiting for him dragged into a corner or drowned in the tub. Only in the surreal blackness of his bedroom at night, crouched on his knees with just his breathless pants and the steady beat of his erection in his hands tying him to reality, did he imagine what General Hux did to them. It was far more terrible, and beautiful, than anything his mind created. The circular holes and dark, blotchy stains littered throughout the concrete floor suddenly made sense.

“Just rip it free, Mitaka, the bolts are dried stiff and the heads are too far down for me to reach with the wrench.” Hux wrapped both hands around the woman’s calf just under her knee, above the bolt, and Mitaka followed suit placing his grip below. His nerves were on fire and his tongue felt too large in his mouth when her clammy skin struggled to be pliant under his grasp. On the General’s count of three he tugged upwards, unaware of the audible choke that escaped his throat when he watched her flesh rend, then suck closed as it was torn off the bolt. The tightening of his waistband flipped his stomach as equally as the squelch of blood and meat. Mitaka stared at the leg in horror before dropping it and automatically moving to the other. 

Hux’s eyes locked on the Lieutenant at his exclaim, quickly reading the man as he too found his grip a second time. He missed nothing. Not the icy sweat on Mitaka’s temples and the flush under his neckline, nor the shake of his hands and thirsty bob of his throat when they ripped the second leg free. Impressive, he thought, pleased with the Lieutenant’s increasing ability to control his emotional display upon these occasions. His eyes flicked down to his hips where he noticed the girth was several centimeters greater than usual; at least control some of his displays, the General amended. He allowed himself a smirk.

Amateur. 

“Please remove its hands as well, if you don’t mind. I’ll bring the squeegee out.” Hux rose to his feet, internally gleeful at the look of panic flitting across Mitaka’s face.

“But sir, the screw heads are perfectly accessible on those ones,” he protested. His erection was painfully tight at this point, refusing to be calmed no matter how he tried to quell it. He had to stop this. This wasn’t him, he should be running from this. General Hux payed the plea no mind. It would be good for the boy, he thought. There was no sense in denying one’s nature. 

“You’ll manage, Lieutenant. I’m certain of it.” 

Mitaka watched Hux head towards the bathroom, opening and closing his mouth in argument, then resignation. There was no way around it. Sticky pools of blood and other fluids Mitaka didn’t want to think about seeped into the fabric of his trousers, but he ignored them as he scooted to better reach the woman’s hands. This uniform was ruined until it came back from laundry if it would even be salvageable by the time Hux let him leave. He took her fingers gently in his hand, uncurling them as best he could to grip the sides of her lifeless palm. No longer in the presence of General Hux he let out a brief moan. Every thread of the bolt resonated in his fingertips, threads of sinewy muscle catching as if reluctant to part with their hold around the iron. It stuck under the solid bolt head in a last attempt to remain bound and before he could think about what to do, Mitaka was pushing his thumbs into the flesh, against the bones, forcing them to part and be pulled free. Blood dripped begrudgingly over his fingers in protest at the lack of staunch. On her other hand he flayed the fingers out flat to press smoothly over the concrete before jerking her palm upward with far more force than the previously, inhaling sharply when the bones broke in their release. His body hummed and his vision was crisp with the disturbed high he had fought against so vehemently. She slumped over now, able to fully collapse to the ground. The Lieutenant stared at the bolts protruding immobile and cruel from the floor, bits of flesh stuck in the threads and slick, slick, blood coating them to glint with macabre beauty under the light. 

The body caved under his will. He made the bones break, he forced the dead blood to be pushed from her unwilling veins…Mitaka reached out without thinking and grasped the bolts with both hands. He licked his lips imagining piercing soft flesh with them, relishing in the hot, fresh flow of cherry that would run over his fingers anew as every twist sucked the metal deeper, until there was no tearing free. Caught in his lustful daydream he had no awareness of his parting lips, heavy eyelids, or the minute movement of his hips trying to grind his dick harder against the confines of his belt.

“Dopheld.”

His blood ran cold upon hearing his name, the icy spread shocking him through to his toes in terror as he realized what he was doing. He jerked his hands back, eyes flashing guilty and ashamed up at General Hux.

“General!” His voice was shrill and too loud in his ears. The stare held him frozen and he was unable to react. There was no right thing to do or correct action to take so he simply knelt there, waiting for his heart to resume its beating, hands and knees drenched in blood while the tension hung thick.

Hux leaned on the handle of the large squeegee he had retrieved, his casual stance unnerving Mitaka even more.

“Would you like to be bolted down, Dopheld? It would be my pleasure.” 

Mitaka’s eyes widened, but in the face of that unthinkable question he quickly regained some composure and stood.

“No, sir, I apologize, I don’t know what came over me,” he blurted with as much professionalism as he could muster. “I’ll…move her out of the way for you, sir.” Hux nodded curtly, and Mitaka stowed his embarrassment while he shouldered the corpse over to the usual corner, retrieving a sheet from their stack on one shelf to wrap her tightly in until she was removed. While Mitaka bound her in layers of fabric, Hux took to squeegeeing the floor. They worked in silence for a few minutes but the wet slap of Hux’s ministrations pierced through Mitaka like a knife. Try as he might it was impossible to keep his gaze away from the rivulets as they were merrily ushered towards a floor drain under one table. 

“Would you like me to finish that, sir?” he asked quietly once he had finished binding the body. It was bizarre to see the General doing such a menial task as cleaning a floor, although he certainly had to enjoy this particular circumstance more purely than Mitaka did. Hux knocked the edge of the squeegee against the floor, splattering excess gore loose to begin a new path. 

“Please, Lieutenant, if you would,” he answered, passing the handle over. “I’ll be taking care of some things in the bathrrom when you’re done. There’s no hurry, Mitaka.” Hux looked at him with a pointed stare that required no answer, as it was not a question, but an invitation. With that he left the Lieutenant to his duties, beginning to loosen the buttons of his shirt as he strode deeper into his rooms.

Nothing went down the drain properly. Over and over he scraped the floor, but dried bits of filth stuck to the rubber and left red threads in the wake of each path, only to leave new trails when he tried to clean the initial ones. Eventually Mitaka gave up, and once the bulk of her fluids had been pushed away he sighed. Once again on his hands and knees he used his jacket to wipe up the remaining streaks. Rubbing it slowly back and forth over the concrete, he watched mesmerized as the tight wool fibers struggled to soak up the liquid, instead working it deeper into the concrete pores before having no choice but to absorb what was left. The color the stained floor turned was beautiful. A color he never knew he loved, but creating the layered rainbow, fresh red over brick over dark brown over black, with his own hands felt like true art. His own masterpiece. Tiny pits in the surface held cups of wetness, seeming to twinkle beneath him as he moved; an entire universe of Hux’s departed souls. Did the General think of them as such when he cleaned alone? Had he shamefully hid the ferocious pleasure it brought him, in the beginning? 

No, Mitaka already knew. General Hux was incapable of guilt or uncertainty. From the very first one he surely gripped throat tight, his eyes flat and dead, relishing the crunch of gristle and vein as it rolled beneath his palms. Mitaka knew the first time Hux pulled a warm, terrified soul close to his breast and sunk a blade between heaving ribs, the ice of his grip never threatened to melt. Did it start with sex, he wondered, glancing over at the naked form wrapped in its cocoon? Surely the passion escalated from more sincere carnal tendencies. An image of General Hux struck in his thoughts; temples and bare shoulders flushed with exertion, normally slicked hair loose and damp, snarling down over a prostrate Mitaka as he let his normally severe countenance become shredded by lust. He probably had freckles.

“Fuck,” Mitaka groaned, setting down his jacket mop. He squeezed his eyes shut and desperately tried to erase the image from his mind but it burned there, fiercely imprinted as hot as his heartbeat throbbing between his legs. He needed to leave, now.

Squeegee in hand, Mitaka made his way back to the bathroom and its subsequent supply closet. Luckily Hux hadn’t been feeling too on edge or overly happy lately and most of his rooms were clean, with the exception of a displaced hand resting on an end table as he entered the hallway and a vase full of greying ropes looking suspiciously jellied. The permeating fog of decay hung more thickly in the narrow space as he drew closer to the light spilling out of the open bathroom door. 

Mitaka had retrieved garbage from this bathroom many times, but none of his previous encounters served to harden him for the carnage within this particular day. He turned the corner to enter then stared, disbelieving, unable to fully comprehend the living nightmare before his eyes. 

The normally light, if slightly pink tinged, marble surfaces were now red. Bright ‘plinks’ rang steadily in Mitaka’s ears from the dismantled lower limbs dripping on thin chains from the ceiling, in direct contrast with his thundering heart. Sinks were clogged with organs and blood; a pile of teeth and bits of jawbone was roughly shoved into one corner of the counter with what looked like, from the crisp swath of smeared fluid leading to it, a sweeping forearm. The owner of the dangling limbs and likely said bones lay in a mutilated heap against the back wall, a trail of very wet blood linking the boy to the bathtub.  
He smelled the tub before he dared to look at it. A putrid slurry of coagulated blood and viscera filled it slightly less than halfway, seeming to undulate under Mitaka’s disassociated gaze. Indeed, the entire room began to turn and spin around him becoming more like a dream the longer he tried to comprehend it. His body felt sick, rolling with the bile of viewing a scene so against what he knew should be. He suddenly remembered witnessing a public execution as a child on his home planet, where the offender had been decapitated in an archaic and grotesque manner. It was the first time he had felt every cell churning simultaneously in protest and for more. This couldn’t be real. 

Hux’s voice broke through the dripping silence from behind him, snapping him from his haze.

“Where are you at, Dopheld?”

Mitaka choked on his words, unable to think. He felt Hux place a hand flat on his lower back, and when the General began to twist his shirt into his fist it anchored him in place. Hux palmed the fabric higher until it came untucked from the back of Mitaka’s trousers, relishing the gasp of surprise as he snuck icy fingertips up his bare spine. 

“You’re getting worse,” Mitaka managed to whisper. “This is barbaric.” 

“Nonsense,” he hissed. The man trembled perfectly under his hands and Hux waited for neither invitation nor protest before snaking them across Mitaka’s hips under his shirt. He caught the shirt between his fingers as he went, working to untuck the rest of it until the buttons were finally pulled free while he growled. “Usually I clean before you arrive with regards to your delicate fucking sensibilities, but I grew tired of waiting for you to come into your own.” Mitaka hung his head when Hux unfastened his belt, making no effort to stifle his mockery. “Perhaps I wrongly anticipated your reaction, Dopheld…what happened to the vigor so obvious when you entered? Was this too much for you still?” Hux pressed himself closer to the Lieutenant’s back, stooping slightly to rest his chin over the man’s shoulder, and Mitaka felt the brush of bare skin against his own. Hux breathed in the warm pulse racing at Mitaka’s jaw under his ear. Goosebumps prickled under his fingers skating across his abdomen as he did so, and Hux smiled against his neck.

“Well?” 

“No, sir,” came the ashamed whisper.

“Down,” Hux snarled with a now ruthless demeanor, following Mitaka to the floor as he fell to his knees facing the bathtub. Hux’s hands were fast and hard tearing his belt from its loops, shoving his shirt up to his shoulder blades, finally gripping tight into his short hair and wrenching his head back. “Head over the edge…I don’t want you to miss anything, Dopheld.” He thrust the lieutenant forward, the wall of the tub knocking the air from him as he failed to catch himself. Instinctively grabbing it with both hands, he stared down into the pool of torture with wide eyes. Mitaka barely felt Hux’s prying hands pull his trousers down to his knees. He couldn’t breathe, or move, and his heart beat wildly in his ears as he took everything in in high definition. Small ripples danced across the surface of the gore from Hux pushing against his back, and he saw bits of hair and skin partially floating in some of the more thickly coagulated areas. There were so many colors. So many shades of red and black Mitaka was overwhelmed. 

Suddenly he was crushed between the tub wall and Hux’s cold, bony chest as the man leaned high over his shoulders. He slowed, placing a palm on Mitaka’s forehead and smoothing his hair back in what would have, in a different circumstance, been an affectionate gesture. Mitaka watched the other pale hand dip into the tub under his face. Hux ran his fingers lovingly through the mixture, rubbing them against one another to thoroughly coat his skin. Mitaka looked on in horror, and also envy; he couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like in his hands. Slowly, Hux brought his fingers to Mitaka’s mouth to trace along his panting lips, and the lieutenant struggled to decide if he was more terrified of his General or more filled with desire to draw those fingers into his mouth, to lick them clean as a testament to how badly he wished for Hux to fill him in other ways, as well.

“I have been accused of being many things…an honorable man is rarely one of them. Still, if you wish to leave, Dopheld, I won’t fight you.”

His breath caught; Mitaka realized what the General was asking permission for, and the shock of it swept over him completely drowning the fear and uncertainty previously boiling in him. He all at once noticed the telltale press of Hux’s clothed erection against his bare ass, the slutty spread of his own knees pulling his trousers tight around his thighs and the sad, desperate gasps that were spilling from him. There was no question. The contrast of his own vibrant life against the death he hovered over sent his nerves sparking and he wanted more than anything at all to feel it even more acutely, to feel Hux. He couldn’t vocalize this so Mitaka showed his commitment with the next best thing.

He closed his lips around two of Hux’s fingers, sliding his tongue between them and sucking them down as deep as he could. Once he had cleaned them, he laved at the other two, letting the blood drip down his chin and his eyelids drop heavily while he moaned at the iron flavor. He ran his tongue on the underside of each one slowly, one segment at a time, doing his best to wrap his lips soft and warm around them. The General softly traced his cheek against Mitaka’s hairline, breathing warm affections against his skin. He knew the Lieutenant wouldn’t be able to resist once he knew what barbarism was welcome, encouraged, in his presence. Although he was so addicted to the despair of his victims as they watched (albeit usually drugged beyond serious comprehension) their lives spill out between his fingers, what Mitaka gave him was completely new. Mitaka couldn’t decide if he wanted a fuck or a murder. It wasn’t the fear that rent him silent and damp with cold sweat; it was the severity of his perversions being thrust into his face with such vulgarity by the very embodiment of official perfection he emulated. Hux drank in the lustful admiration, and it intoxicated him.

With more than a little reluctance, he slipped from that greedy cavern to coat his hand anew from the tub before probing Mitaka’s ass.

“This will hurt,” he warned, forcing two bloody fingers none too gently into the Lieutenant. So tight, he thought while struggling to pump them in a knuckle further. Mitaka wasn’t making any noise, wasn’t crying or moaning, but his face was frozen in a pained grimace from the intrusion. He barely shook. Hux mercilessly thrust a third finger in beside the other two and pushed harshly, making Mitaka buck his hips and rock his own arousal against the tub wall. It was silent while Hux worked him open, just enough to stave the pleasureless burn that would incur if he didn’t. His little lieutenant didn’t make a sound as he smeared blood across and into his ass and bit gently down the back edge of his shoulder, until to the General’s surprise, he did.

“You’re inside me,” Mitaka croaked. Hux unbuckled and slid down his trousers with his unoccupied hand, another handful of coagulated lubrication smeared quickly along his erection. 

“Not quite, you’ll certainly be able to tell when I am,” he huffed lightly. Mitaka tightened around his fingers and Hux stroked harder.

“No,” the man said, “no, General, what you do is inside me…I smell it in my bunk at night. Everything I look at, I see it dripping with blood, and I want to feel it, and taste it red on my tongue.” Hux listened to the small voice confess. Nothing he wasn’t already aware of, but oh how it sounded being realized and claimed for the first time.  
“Help me, General, please. I can’t get you out.” Mitaka may have seemed pathetic to some as he pleaded, but Hux saw a conquest. He scooped another handful from the tub and closed his palm tight over Mitaka’s open mouth, forcing the contents inside through sputters of surprise.

“You never will,” he promised.

With that promise he aligned himself against his lieutenant, slowly breaching the relaxed resistance while Mitaka screamed into his palm. He stroked a layer of red liquid quickly at the point of their juncture and sunk in farther. Thin ribs heaved underneath him and in the macabre stillness he saw the minute ripples of tears falling into the tub. Tears by his hand; or rather his cock, in this case. Another benevolent handful of slick wrapped around his base and Hux seated himself fully, a growl rising in his chest as Mitaka’s brief screams turned into moans.

Hux waited, several long seconds for a General’s schedule, before pulling back to thrust deeper. His lieutenant was quiet again. A quick pace filled the room with the soft slap of flesh and blood drowning out the drips falling onto marble floors, but Mitaka could only hear the pants of his superior in his ear and the thud of his own heartbeat pulsing like a drum throughout his body. Hux did not fuck him cruelly, but neither was he gentle; he pulled himself delicately from the prone form beneath him before savoring every inch of what he plunged inside, smearing delicate circles and finger paths of blood across Mitaka’s back as he opened him in their carnal display.

But, this wasn’t quite enough for him, he wanted his Lieutenant to think. With addiction comes built tolerance, and General Hux’s addiction should run deeper than the normal definition. 

“Drink it,” he ordered huskily with a particularly hard thrust. 

Mitaka groaned, blood and spit gargling in his throat. He hung his head low in denial, eyes boring into the tub and he gripped the edge tightly in protest. Hux was quick to grasp his wrist, pulling it backwards in dominant leverage to fuck the man harder. 

“Drink it, Dopheld, and maybe I’ll let your weak, inexperienced constitution help me fill it next time.”

So he did. Mitaka bent harder over the tub edge, raising his hips and surely bruising them as Hux used the opportunity to slam him against the marble as he lowered his lips to the surface. He hovered, only in slight hesitation, above it before the ferocity of the General’s actions pushed him below. 

Cooler, far more so than he expected, was his initial thought as his face was plunged into the tub. Far cooler, and far less sour. Mitaka wanted to breathe immediately but instinctually knew he couldn’t. Blood filled his mouth and nose, slipped into his throat and he swallowed without thought, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of thick sludge until finally Hux’s grip in his hair was pulling him upwards.

“I can teach you, Mitaka,” he said with no hint of pompous edge in his voice. “I can show you how to bring pain and humiliation beyond what you’re scared to even imagine. Let me show you how beautiful it feels to watch the life drain so slowly, so desperately, from another person…” Hux slid a bloody palm up the lieutenant’s neck, gently pulling him upright and tilting his head back in a more intimate position while he penetrated him slowly and completely. Mitaka trembled under the touch, weak with the sensation of blood dripping from the handprint, from his face, sliding down his chest. The thick breach of Hux’s cock had him whimpering with desire; how he longed to ride it to fruition.  
“I will show you how to wield so much power, then I’ll fuck you like this over and over to remind you who turned you into this creature. You’ll enjoy being under me, Dopheld,” Hux snapped his hips to emphasize the double meaning of his words, massaging the vibration of moans in the man’s throat, “enjoy learning everything I am capable of.” 

Mitaka was desperately rocking his hips as much as he could caught between the tub and wrapped in his General’s binding arms, aching to feel the thick slide of his full length with his thrusts. The presence of the man overwhelmed him as much as the bloody stench intoxicated him, and his cock leapt at the thought of one day himself commanding such an atmosphere. Maybe one day, himself bending a quivering, sick soul over his own trophies as he broke their inhibitions and poured himself into their body. He rested his back to lean on Hux’s shoulder, mewling at the soft brush of stray orange hairs that fell across his nose.

‘’Please,” was all he said in response.

Hux once again leaned Dopheld over the tub, more delicately now, stroking his hand along the boy’s to settle over it along the edge. 

“Let me hear you. No one else can in here, don’t hold back from me.” He laid his body along Mitaka’s blood-smeared back while he rutted into his small frame. Every tremor relayed through to him, he could feel the tension drawing Dopheld tight like a band as he neared his release. Mitaka gasped unevenly, unable to hold on to any sense of order or method as his entire body shook and his lungs continued to fill with a breath he couldn’t seem to release. His muscles burned from tensing for so long but he couldn’t relax under so much mental and physical bombardment, despite his desperation to come. Hux reached to drag his fingers along his previously ignored length and after a few pointed rolls of his hips, Mitaka finally broke. Suddenly the air rushed from his lungs and he collapsed in desperate spasms over the tub, vocal groans and cries of Hux’s name echoed through the wet bathroom while he came. Everything made sense, in that moment; he was no longer plagued by his vile nature but rewarded for it. Would continue to be rewarded for it. 

He could barely feel the intense pounding of his General nearing his own orgasm. Boneless with eyes closed, Mitaka slumped forward, letting his mind go blank and body rock limply against the tub when Hux finally filled him. No pet names or words of encouragement spilled from Hux’s tight lips. Just ruthless hands spreading his legs and the narrow press of the General’s chest against his back spreading a vile feeling through his gut, heightened by the violating pulse inside he was suddenly hyper-aware of.

Hux withdrew, letting Mitaka crumple to the floor on his back. His limbs were numb. His ass was burning, and his stomach rolled. So he opted to lie still with eyes still closed, taking bizarre security in the drips that fell onto his cheeks and flushed chest from the ceiling while he listened to the General dress himself. His voice was cold when it reached his ears.

“Get up. Take your clothes and leave, but come back tomorrow to finish cleaning up this mess. From now on bring a spare uniform with you and your own soap when I call. Keep this to yourself Lieutenant.” Mitaka noticed the drops ceased to land on his face. He opened his eyes to see Hux leaning over him, orange hair slicked back with a bloodied hand and expression once again pale and hard. “Understand, Dopheld?”

Mitaka leaned up on his elbows, surprised when he took the hand Hux offered to help him to his feet. 

“Yes, Sir, I understand. Am I…?” he hesitated, drawing a hand to his mouth without realizing it. He had ingested someone, surely multiple someones, else’s blood. He could feel it cold inside him, probably from his own mind more than realistically but surely there were dangers.

“You’ll be fine,” Hux assured him, watching him wipe his face and slowly straighten his clothes. “I pick them myself with strict criteria, and have them all tested. Also, Dopheld, from now on, in my rooms I’d like you to call me by my name.”

“Of course…Hux.” The word sounded bizarre on his tongue and he blushed. Nothing like when he moaned it to himself on his bunk. The memory seemed fake now, in the aftermath of such a heightened event. Would he even continue alone? Would he still dream of blood, of opening his mouth for Hux’s various intrusions?

“You may go,” the General said softly, gesturing towards the bathroom door.

 

Hux toed the bleeding body in the corner of his bathroom, smiling as his boot sunk into its weak flesh. He had never had something akin to an apprentice before and the thought of acquiring one sat comfortably with him. Dopheld was certainly willing, if still shell-shocked. He doubted it would take much to strengthen his resolve and turn those apprehensions into pure enjoyment. It would be nice, at the very least, to have a bedfellow he didn’t feel the need to kill afterwards. Where had this boy come from? Looking at his wrecked bathroom, the General was glad he had decided to leave it until tomorrow for Dopheld to take care of. He cleaned himself in the clogged sink, uncaring as fresh water filled it and began to spill out onto the floor, soggy coagulation and flesh slipping over the counter ledge like washed up jellyfish. Sometimes he briefly wished he had Ren’s ability to literally delve into the minds of others. He wondered what he might find in Dopheld, where the adoration the boy had with him stemmed from. Not that he truly cared for any purpose beyond molding him to better suit his own needs, which he certainly could manage without the use of some weak crutch. Hux sighed, content for the time being. Maybe this would help distract him from the myriad of stresses on Base.

 

The main chamber door clicked into place behind him and Mitaka braced himself with one hand against it, doubled over in numb disbelief. The hallway swam around him and all he could hear was the steady drip of blood falling onto the concrete, no longer able to be soaked into the pregnant fibers of his clothes. He stared at his hands, stained red, and his stomach rolled with the sea of gore, guilt, and Hux within it all. The horror of what he had done bubbled up like geyser and suddenly Mitaka could taste every thick, bitter ounce of it clogging his throat and mouth, in his teeth. He vomited. Streaks of red and black pooled onto the floor and splattered against the wall outside Hux’s room as Mitaka retched until he was empty, but the sick in his soul wouldn’t be expelled. He wiped his mouth on the back of his arm which only served to smear more mess across his face. This would never stop. He could never ignore it or fight against it now; the stains on his teeth, the dull, throbbing pain leftover in his lower back from Hux’s brutal onslaught, the utter nirvana he experienced when he let the carnage wash over him; it was all he wanted. He was at heart a monster, and the General would let him become one.

Mitaka shed his jacket, dropping it to the floor as he began on unsteady feet towards his bunk. Shaky fingers unbuttoned his shirt and he removed that too, the stares of crew members who passed him going unnoticed as he used it to wipe what meager filth he could from his bare torso and face. No one dared to ask what had happened or if he was alright. No one needed to, as the blissful smile stretched across his face told them everything they’d rather not know.


End file.
